32 Flavors
by Samelie
Summary: She had stayed with him through the drugs, the alchohol, and the crazy destructive parties that rockstars go to. She had given up her dreams to live the life of a celebreties wife, but even with all that, you can only take so much. AU Sora Yamato


OKAY! So, you guys...this is going to be a REALLY serious story! I intend for love, hurt, anger, resentment, and hate! It will be super high on the drama. Don't ask me why, it just seemed like a good idea to write something like this. I hope you all enjoy. Also, this story takes place in the USA and embraces that culture rather than the japanese culture.

* * *

Sora slid out of the sheets with ease, trying he best to keep the silence around her, just that…silent. What had she been thinking? She was an adult now, not some horny 25 year old. She had two kids to look after, so how could she have been so irresponsible? 

She leaned down cautiously, lifting her jeans from the ground, pulling the rumpled underwear from out of one of the pant legs, and then she began a quiet search for her bra. It wasn't a long search; she found it lying next to a pair of men's jeans, next to her dark hoodie. She dressed herself, and slipped on her sandals at the entrance of the bedroom door, opening it with painstaking caution.

Sora took one last look at the man she had been with, his skinny chest raising and falling with each satisfied and tender breath. Light from the drawn blinds of his glamorous loft bedroom spilled over onto the bed at him, and for a moment, Sora could recall what made her love him. But, that moment was a flicker. She was suddenly struck with anger, and with a quiet huff, she left the bedroom and headed down the spiral staircase in a flurry, heels clicking on the metal steps.

* * *

Yamato rolled over onto his side, a pleased smirk on his lips. His eyes fluttered, his body facing away from the window, and end table with a blinking clock next to him. 11:36 am, it read, and he stretched his arm back behind him, feeling for the warm body he had spent the night with, startled when he did not feel her beside him, he sat upright to take a look around.

"She must have gone to the bathroom," he spoke to no one, his voice ragged with waking, "Sora?" he called out. No answer.

With feline grace, he rose from the bed, sheet sprawled and torn from the night's activities and as he took a real glance about he noticed the lack of her clothing. Yamato's heart dropped. She had left him without so much as a goodbye. How could she?

"Bitch," he muttered under his breath, with hurt. How could she have just taken off without so much as a goodbye? He sighed to himself, and reached for his jeans that waited for him at the floor at the foot of the bed. With ease, he pulled them on and headed down the stairs to his kitchen, stopping to take a look at a picture that hung on the wall.

There she was, staring at him, a glimmering smile crossing her gentle, mocking mouth, arms draped around a young child. The child, a young boy was the spitting image of his mom…of Sora. But, there was one thing the 2 – year old boy had, that she didn't. Blue eyes. Big, bulging, innocent blue eyes, the color of ice shards. The boy in the photograph was oblivious to his picture being snapped, he was much to interested in his mother's swelling belly. Yes, another child. Yamato smiled in spite of himself, his boys. He only had a few pictures of his second son, being as things went the way they did after…well, he didn't really want to think about it. Sora left him, with his sons. Christian and Lenne had grown since last he saw them. Lenne had been barely a month old when she left, and Christian was newly three.

Before he could stop himself, Yamato pulled the picture from the wall and threw it down the rest of the length of the stairs. It wasn't until he heard the glass shatter that he realized what he had done. He felt empty, he felt alone, and he felt like a fool. With his head heavy, he turned back up the stairs towards a closet for a broom and dust pan. He felt like crying, and…he did just that.

* * *

Sora's cell phone rang her purse, and she ignored it. She was afraid to look at it, to see who it was. What if it was him? What if he had called to beg her to call this whole thing off, or to see his sons, or to tell her this battle was now a full on war? She shook her head, driving her sporty S.U.V. a little faster than before. She took a glance behind her at the disappearing airport. She had changed her flight to the earliest one she could get, arriving in her home of New York two hours sooner than planned. She had to do it, however. Sharing a city as big as L.A. was still not enough room for her. If he wanted to talk about things, he could come to her this time. Anger came back, and she sped. She missed her boys. 

Finally, the cell phone was quiet, and she reached into the open shoulder bag without looking, feeling around for the phone. She hit 'end' until she was sure she wouldn't see the missed name, and then instinctively dialed her friend and current baby sitter.

"Hello?" Mimi asked over the loud ruckus of children's cartoons in the back.

"Hey, Mimi. It's Sora. I came home a little early. How're the boys?"

"Sora! Oh, they're just fine; they're watching Tom and Jerry. Uh…" Mimi's sweet, high-pitched voice became ragged, "How was the trip?"

Sora didn't answer for a moment, "It was…Mimi, Iscrewed up."

Mimi's bug eyes opened with wonderment, leaving the boys to watch TV as she entered the kitchen, "What happened? He wouldn't except the divorce papers?"

There was no pause this time, there was no answer, Mimi could hear her friend begin to sob.

* * *

Okay, so...this is like a prologue. I hope you guys all enjoyed and let me know if you want some more. This is really an experiment more than anything, but if you like it, I'll crank out more.

And by the way...I LOVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISISM! If you give to me, and I like it, I will take it into account and thank you for it.


End file.
